After I wrote about the leading-up-to-valentines fun for yesterday’s post, here’s how we actually spent the weekend: sitting up all night Saturday with both Audrey and Sadie, who were feverish and coughing and congested. Well, not the whole night. They finally fell asleep for good around 3:00am. And then they woke up for the morning at 7:00.

Sadie, around 1:00am, started wheezing; luckily neither Dane nor I had anything more pressing to do than to hold her upright so she could breathe while she tried to sleep. (She wouldn’t agree to sit in the steamy bathroom, so we were glad that holding her upright helped.) Sunday their fevers were not nearly as bad, and the wheezing hasn’t made a comeback, so we’re feeling pretty good about the week ahead. But still.

Given that it was Valentine’s weekend and all, this had me thinking about the nature of love—specifically, about how love is a choice, not just a feeling. And it’s a choice we get to make over and over again. Not so much in the middle of the night—that was hardly a choice, they needed our attention and it was easy to give, since they were little and miserable and pathetic.

But Sunday we grown-ups were tired from all the nighttime wakefulness. And today is sure to be more of the same. This is where I get to choose. Today I can be cranky and slow, because I really am tired. I can sigh and groan and say no a lot. Or I can choose to love. I’m not sure exactly what that will look like, but I’m guessing it will involve less focus on me so tired wah and more focus on other people. (Hey, I didn’t say it was going to be an easy choice. Especially given that I secretly—or not-so-secretly—would rather spend the day asleep on the couch.)

Lack of sleep: not my choice. How I respond to being tired, how I react to the people around me all day today: my choice. I decide. Will today be love? Or will today be me, reacting to circumstances beyond my control? My choice. Here goes.

After I wrote about the leading-up-to-valentines fun for yesterday’s post, here’s how we actually spent the weekend: sitting up all night Saturday with both Audrey and Sadie, who were feverish and coughing and congested. Well, not the whole night. They finally fell asleep for good around 3:00am. And then they woke up for the morning at 7:00.

Sadie, around 1:00am, was wheezing badly; luckily neither Dane nor I had anything more pressing to do than to hold her upright so she could breathe while she tried to sleep. (She wouldn’t agree to sit in the steamy bathroom, so we were glad that holding her upright helped.) Sunday their fevers were not nearly as bad, and the wheezing hasn’t made a comeback, so we’re feeling pretty good about the week ahead. But still.

Given that it was Valentine’s weekend and all, this had me thinking about the nature of love—specifically, about how love is a choice, not just a feeling. And it’s a choice we get to make over and over again. Not so much in the middle of the night—that was hardly a choice, they needed our attention and it was easy to give, since they were little and miserable and pathetic.

But Sunday we grown-ups were tired from all the nighttime wakefulness. And today is sure to be more of the same. This is where I get to choose. Today I can be cranky and slow, because I really am tired. I can sigh and groan and say no a lot. Or I can choose to love. I can be thankful for today, I can be glad I get to spend it this way, even if I secretly (or not-so-secretly) would rather spend the day asleep on the couch.

Lack of sleep: not my choice. How I respond to being tired, how I react to the people around me all day today: my choice. I decide. Will today be love? Or will today be me, reacting to circumstances beyond my control? My choice. Here goes.